


Eye of the Beholder

by starportals (orphan_account)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Magic Reveal, Multi, Other, i have no idea what im doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starportals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur found out, he refused to talk to Merlin for just over three weeks.</p><p>------------</p><p>In which Merlin's magic is revealed in a way he hadn't anticipated; the knights find amusement in even the smallest of spells; Gwen develops an eager interest in the arts of magic; and Arthur is, well, Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Truth is, Unfortunately, Out There

**Author's Note:**

> okay. a few things out of the way first.
> 
> this is my first fic in. pffftt. 4 or 5 years? i know i'm incredibly rusty, but i'm hoping that because i still write for a hobby it's not as bad as it would have been had i not written anything in those years.
> 
> secondly, this story is a kind of "write it as i think it" deal. nothing is planned, there's no plot so far as everyone just coming to terms with merlin's magic.
> 
> thirdly, i see this as being set between series 4 and 5, so do with that what u will.
> 
> oh, it's also unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own but i'll try to make sure it's Top Quality before uploading.  
> okay, that's it. i hope u enjoy!

When Arthur found out, he refused to talk to Merlin for just over three weeks. Those three weeks, Merlin wasn’t ashamed to admit, were the worst three weeks in his entire life. He also took great pleasure in reminding Arthur just how childish the whole thing was, but that was neither here nor there. 

Merlin had thought about telling Arthur he had magic a lot, before the reveal, and had imagined almost every scenario possible for how he would bring it up. There were the heroic moments, of course, where he saw himself in the middle of a huge battle with no other option but to use his magic to save everyone (nothing unusual, if he were being honest) in a way that also revealed it to them. Those moments never seemed to play out the same way twice; whenever his mind created a new scenario it always seemed to come up with tiny little factors that Merlin had forgotten to add in any previous scenarios, and thus the reactions people had were ever-changing. No, he much preferred to think endlessly over the quieter moments of revelation; telling the knights after a morning of training, bringing it up casually and them only nodding in acknowledgement and acceptance before dog-piling onto him with their disgustingly sweaty bodies. Which they often did, by the way, most of the time without any good reason.

Telling Gwen was his favourite thing to imagine, because he knew she would be so sweet and kind about it. Merlin liked to think she would believe he was joking at first, but once realising he was speaking the truth, she would smile softly and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. They were friends, after all, and Gwen was nothing if not loyal to her friends.

Arthur was...different. He had a complicated history with magic, Merlin knew, and it made it difficult to even consider what his reaction might be. Would he be angry? Probably. Merlin sometimes even thought that the betrayal of trust between them would be enough cause for Arthur to dismiss him, as both servant and friend. Merlin tried not to dwell on those thoughts too long.

As it turns out, the actual reveal was nothing like Merlin had imagined; it wasn’t heroic and it definitely wasn’t casual. It was...well, Arthur had later said it was very _in-character and predictable_ , and Merlin still didn’t know how to take that.

It should have been the most simple of tasks; reports of strange lights that had been seen dancing just beyond the edges of the woods, bright and round and all-too enticing to passersby, had come in by the tens over the past month. Partner that with a few disappearances around the place, all seemingly taking place during the night, and it became something that needed dealing with. All they had to do was discover what these lights were, put a stop to their luring, and get home in time for breakfast. And, honestly, Merlin has wondered many times since that night whether or not the whole thing was planned by some mischievous little spirit that had something against him. It’s entirely plausible.

A group set out just after nightfall; Arthur leading their procession with Merlin close by, the usual company of Leon, Percival, Gwaine, and Elyan following behind, and a handful of other knights filling out their numbers should the investigation turn sour. For the first few hours, they saw nothing out of the ordinary. At one point an owl flew straight through them all, whipping by so fast that it almost knocked Gwaine from his horse, and of all the people that could happen to, it would be him. 

The moon was high in the sky when Arthur suggested, after having found nothing, that they should head back to the castle and try again tomorrow night. That was when Merlin had felt the change in the air, like it had grown warmer and heavier, the trees all coming to a complete standstill and a dreadful silence descending over the area.

“Wait,” Merlin had said, bringing his horse to a stop, “You hear that?”

Arthur would perhaps never admit it, but Merlin knew his voice was one of a few that the king trusted greatly. He looked over at Merlin in the dim light, the flickering flame of the torch bathing his face in a soft and golden glow, “Nothing.” 

Their torches had all blown out suddenly, plunging the group into the surreal darkness of the woods at night, moonlight pale and frosting everything in a silver, unearthly gleam. Then the wicked lights had appeared, sparking to life all around them; one, two, ten, so many that Merlin lost count. The reports had been correct; they did look like stars, and they were beautiful to behold. That was the dangerous thing about magic. No matter if it were good or evil or a grey area in between, it was all beautiful, and shining, and deadly. Merlin could feel his own powers thrumming through his veins, stronger than they had been earlier on, because that was another odd little thing; magic always sought out magic. 

Will-o’-the-wisps were bothersome spirits, playful and tricksy and malicious to an extent. It hadn’t even occurred to Merlin that they could be the creatures causing the disappearances, and he couldn’t shake that disappointment in himself. He should have _known_. It was his job to know these things. By the time his mind had helpfully supplied him with a quick spell to dispel the wisps, half of the knights were already shuffling off into the trees after them, heading out into the darkness in all directions, and Merlin had to refrain from rolling his eyes. 

He saw Arthur stumble down an embankment, a neat little line of wisps plotting his path deeper into the woods. In their wisp-induced dream state, Merlin had hoped that no one would recall his casting of the spell, or if they did perhaps they’d believe it was the wisps themselves luring them away. He took off in Arthur’s direction, pronouncing the spell clearly and feeling the addictive rush of his magic through his mind, the force of it sending shivers down his spine and prickling at his skin. It always felt as if he were too big for his body, like the magic would split him open and pour out into the world. The wisps were gone in an instant; Merlin could hear the knights calling out to each other behind him, making sure everyone was okay. His attention was focused on Arthur, and the strange way he was looking at him; like he was...puzzling something out. Later, Merlin reflected on how he should have guessed there and then that Arthur had seen, that his secret was out in the open in that moment, but the tiredness that washed over him was consuming. They had been out for the best part of the night, and Merlin wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath the familiar sheets of his bed.

They rode back to Camelot in near silence, the thumping of horse hooves the only sound. When the castle at last came into view, the knights rode on ahead to announce their return to the few people still awake in the small hours of the morning, and Merlin knew he’d be seeing plenty of grumpy and tired stableboys tomorrow. 

Arthur still hadn’t said a single word to him when he was preparing for bed, pulling his shirt over his head and carefully running a hand over Gwen’s sleeping form, gently brushing sleep-mussed curls from her closed eyes. He stood before the bed for a moment, Merlin waiting for his dismissal with tired impatience.

“Sire, I-” he started, before Arthur held up a hand to silence him, stern eyes coming to focus on Merlin.

There was a beat of terrifying stillness, the heat in Arthur’s gaze fierce and unyielding, only barely concealing the anger that was plainly there, just below the surface. Before Merlin could question why, exactly, the king was so angry, Arthur spoke. Two little words that would float around Merlin’s mind for weeks to come, taunting him relentlessly even in his sleep.

Arthur’s voice was steady and almost calm, “I saw.” was all he said, and there was no question as to what he was referring to.

Merlin gaped at him, and then panic took over and he was running away.


	2. You've Got A Friend (In Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. slightly longer chapter, not sure if that's a good or bad thing. enjoy!

It was two days later before anyone brought it up. Merlin was flitting around Arthur’s chambers, trying to busy himself with any task he could get his hands on. The initial shock he’d felt on the night had dulled down only slightly, growing heavy and nervous and settling itself in the pit of his stomach; the thought of someone asking him about it was enough to make him feel sick.

He heard the door click open behind him, dragging him from his thoughts. Merlin couldn’t quite gather the courage needed to face whoever it was.

“Merlin…” _Gwen_ , soft and sympathetic and pleading, and somehow that was enough to calm the vicious beating of his heart and turn to face her.

Arthur must have told her. Of course he would confide in her; in all honesty, Merlin was glad that she was the first person to come to him about it. Even the knights hadn’t asked him, though Merlin believed that was more to do with not actually knowing how to bring it up than anything else. _At least they still look at me._ Arthur hadn’t so much as acknowledged his presence; Merlin would rather he rage and scream and cry, anything would be better than sullen silence.

“He just needs time,” Gwen said, as if she could read Merlin’s mind, taking careful steps towards him. She sighed, “That’s not why I came.”

“I never hurt anyone with it,” he hurried out, knowing that was the first thing people would want to know. It was a lie though, wasn’t it? “Not anyone I care about, anyway.”

Gwen looked surprised for only a second, understanding smoothing out her features as she reached out to hold one of his hands in both of hers, “I didn’t think you had.”

For the tiniest of moments, that made Merlin angry. Gwen didn’t think he had hurt anyone, didn’t think he was capable of such a thing, believed that he would never willingly endanger another living person. He wanted to confess every bad thing he had ever done; all the wrongs he had committed using magic, up to and including taking a life. He didn’t take any pleasure in it, but he knew he could do it. The anger passed, and he knew that was nothing to be proud of; there was no success or pride in being able to kill. Is that why Arthur wouldn’t even look his way? _Is he scared of me?_ The thought was so ridiculous it was difficult not to laugh, but then he supposed it could very well be the truth. There was so much he needed to explain, and he didn't know if anyone was willing to listen. Gwen was here, though, that had to count for something.

Merlin closed his eyes against the sudden brightness of the room, the white beams of sunlight that shone through the window reflecting off of the cabinets and the bedsheets and the curtains and it was just too much. In his mind, the world was easier. In his mind, the sun was just right and nobody batted an eyelid at his magic. In his mind, he was Merlin. _Just Merlin._ He held on tightly to Gwen’s hands, and he never truly realised, or appreciated, how intuitive she could be until this moment.

“Nobody hates you, Merlin.” Gwen said it as if it were the stone cold truth, a statement that broached no argument. “Nobody could ever hate you. But I need to understand.”

Merlin opened his eyes to find her smiling at him, so warm and full of love that it made him ache in some deep part of his chest. He recognised that ache immediately, had felt it whenever Arthur gave him similar smiles. He filed the information away for later; there were more important things to deal with first.

“Where do I start?” It was a verbal instruction for himself more than anything else, memories already bubbling to the surface of his thoughts. The beginning was always the best place to start, but which beginning does he go from? The very first spell he remembers casting as a child? Meeting a dragon beneath the castle, talking of kings and destiny? 

“How does it feel?” Gwen had given him a stepping stone on which to build his bridge across, and now he could form his explanation around something with which he was intimately familiar. Once he started talking, he found it hard to stop, like the gate had been opened and everything came rushing out all at once. 

“There’s...nothing else that compares to it,” Merlin said, every inch of him honest and true. “It’s like the feeling just before a storm, when you can feel the heaviness of the clouds but you can’t do anything other than wait for them to burst. It burns, but in a good way, like the pain in your legs after running for a long time except it’s all over my body, and sometimes it hurts so much I feel like I’m going to crack open. I think I do, in a way, and suddenly I’m not just me anymore; I’m...everything.”

Gwen looks enraptured, mouth parted ever-so-slightly and her eyes wide with interest. Merlin is so relieved and overwhelmed that he has to sit down before he falls down, so he shuffles them over to perch on the edge of the bed, hands still clasped together. They sit side-by-side, twisted around to face each other. He told her everything he could; the many times he had saved Arthur’s life being the one thing he brought up most, and they both laughed about how recklessly brave he could be, their king, and how it was lucky that Merlin was a sorcerer otherwise there would be no one left alive to have this conversation. He doesn’t tell her about destiny, skates over that subject like a deer on thin ice. He lets her know, though, that everything he does is important. Merlin ensures that she, at least, understands that everything he has done, is doing, will do is for the good of them all; for the good of the kingdom. It feels like he’s still lying, and he supposes that he sort of is. It hurts, if only a little bit.

Gwen is speechless at first, and Merlin can see in her eyes that she’s trying to process it all; going over his words in her mind. “You’re incredible.” she says, quiet and breathless.

She is so beautiful, and strong, and Merlin is glad he never doubted her. In all the scenarios his mind had supplied him with, never once had he imagined Gwen being hateful; she is far too clever and kind to allow this to ruin their friendship.

“All these years,” she smiles again, brings his head to rest on her shoulder in the best imitation of a hug they can manage in such an awkward position, “and you never once said anything. Never sought after praise.”

They pull back from each other, and in the sunlight Gwen’s eyes turn to honey. Merlin feels his face grow warmer, flushing with an emotion he can’t quite pin down; shame, perhaps, for having hid himself away for so long. He has to keep reminding himself that it isn’t his fault, that saying anything would have been a death sentence. He’s still a little bit baffled at the fact that he hasn’t been thrown into the dungeons yet. He feels as though he’s thrown the world off kilter, changed the game and now nobody is sure of the rules anymore. It was different when none of them knew a sorcerer in person, when the people they were condemning were nothing but faces in the wind. Perhaps it’s a good thing, everybody knowing the truth. Perhaps it will make them more sympathetic, or kinder, like Gwen.

“I don’t it for the praise, I do it because…” _...it’s my destiny._ “It’s the right thing to do.”

“You’ve been watching over us all this time, I think you deserve the praise, whether you want it or not.” Gwen gives his hands one last squeeze before letting go and standing from the bed, looking down upon him as if she were the guardian angel. “I’ll try to talk to him. Arthur, I mean. He might be angry and upset and confused, but you’re still his friend.”

“If he sends me away it won’t matter.” Merlin says, because even if he was still roaming free rather than being locked up, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be banished from Camelot. In a way, he thought that would be a far worse punishment.

“He wouldn’t do that; I wouldn’t let him. Even if he did, even if he somehow found it in himself to hate you that much, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.” Gwen had a way of making everything she said sound so final, so utterly and unquestionably true. In that moment, Merlin thinks, he loved her with all his heart, or perhaps he always had and was just now realising it.

Gwen gives him a soft look, smiles and inclines her head only slightly, “I promise you that I will talk to him.” she says, and then she’s gone. 

After she leaves, Merlin laughs hysterically to himself. There’s a noticeable rush of _something_ all across his body and his hands refuse to stop shaking even though he’s no longer as scared as he was. There’s a loud crash from outside, followed by numerous people groaning, and Merlin remembers there’s other stuff that needs doing today. The fear isn’t completely gone, but for now speaking to Gwen is enough to be content with.

***

Gwaine and Percival come to him four days after Gwen, almost a week after the wisp incident. Merlin had decided to use the hours he had spare to do a quick supply run down in the town; visiting the usual stalls for the usual ingredients, and scouting around for anything new that caught his eye. He had just bought a particularly gorgeous looking hunk of beef when the two knights approached him, taking Merlin completely off guard.

“We’re sorry we didn’t come sooner.” Is all Gwaine says, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders like nothing ever happened.

Percival gives the shorter knight a look that Merlin has to come to identify as disbelief and friendly begrudging and says, “We saw what happened in the woods. We didn’t really know what to say, but we’ve all been talking and, well, you’re our friend, right?”

“So, you’re all okay with the...the whole magic thing?” Merlin asks, slightly taken aback because he thought that perhaps some people would need to be convinced that it was safe to be around him, that they wouldn't be incinerated or torn apart in a fit of anger.

“You saved our lives,” Gwaine nabs a pear from Merlin’s bag and chomps on it noisily, “And from what Gwen says, you do that on a pretty regular basis. I won’t lie, Merlin, my pride has taken a pretty big hit, but at least I’m still alive enough to have pride.” he smiles around a mouthful of fruit.

“You spoke to Gwen?” Merlin hopes his voice isn't as small and croaky as he thinks it is.

“Kind of. Gwen spoke to Elyan, who then spoke to us. We all agree on one thing, though, and that’s that being your friend is something we all value. We’re willing to overlook the years of lying, honestly.”

Merlin is temporarily stunned. The market around them becomes nothing more than a din in his ears, his world shrinking to the three of them stood at the end of a road bustling with people. He sees Gwaine go for another pear before Percival reaches out to stop him, telling him to buy his own, and it’s so normal that Merlin can’t speak. His greatest secret is out in the open, and nothing has changed. Well, maybe some things had, but Merlin kept his hope close to his heart. 

“I…” he grasps for something to say, “Thank you.” He feels like those two words alone aren’t enough, will never be enough, to fully convey just how grateful he is. Knowing he has Gwen and the knights on his side somehow lessens the sting of Arthur not speaking to him.

“Just the kind of guys we are.” Gwaine says with a wink, and Merlin rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we better get to training before Arthur decides to take our knighthoods.” he makes to walk away, Percival almost falling over him when he stops. “Oh,” and, _yep_ , there’s that annoyingly mischievous glint in his eye. “We were also hoping to see something amazing, too. You know, a couple of tricks here and there. Not now, obviously, but just out of interest; what’s your stance on fireballs?”

Against enemies? Fireballs are fantastic. Merlin refrains from using them on his friends, though he’s willing to make Gwaine the exception to that if the man wants to see them so badly. “Get to training,” Merlin says, feeling a smirk pull at his lips. “And be careful; the ground is a little slippery from last night’s rain, and we wouldn’t want you hurting yourself now, would we?”

Both Gwaine and Percival laugh, and then Merlin is watching them retreat to the castle, chest lighter than it was before seeing them. He hadn’t lost any of the knights; they all wanted to remain his friend after everything and Merlin was so happy with the way things were going that he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. 

Maybe, just maybe, talking to Arthur won’t be so bad. Maybe Gwen was right, and he just needs time. Merlin knows it’s a lot to process, and he also knows that Arthur will have taken it as a betrayal which, Merlin guesses, it was. It was a betrayal of trust, but for all the right reasons. Arthur has to see that, sooner or later. Merlin just has to wait him out; he’ll keep doing his job as if nothing is wrong. 

So, Merlin waited. And he worked. He gave Gwen books on magic to read when she asked. He managed to hold his ground when Gwaine continued pestering him for a fireball, even a little one. 

Eventually, Arthur comes to him.

***

It's two weeks later, three weeks since the night in the woods, and the evening air is warm, the breeze whispering through the open window as Merlin lights the candles in Arthur's chambers. Candlelight is something he thinks he'll never tire of; the hazy glow it sends around the room is inviting and comforting, softening colours that, in daylight, are so harsh and bright. He can hear people outside, the last stragglers of the day calling out their _goodbye_ s and _goodnight ___s to each other, and then the silence of the night descends over the world. He finishes lighting the candles, doing one last sweep of the room to make sure everything is done. He'd managed to miss Arthur in the evenings for the past few days, not on purpose or anything, because Merlin is absolutely not trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation between them. Except that he kind of is. He thinks he might miss the king tonight as well, tries to pretend like he's not hoping to. Satisfied with his work, Merlin heads for the door.

And Arthur chooses that exact moment to walk in. 

He looks surprised for all of five seconds, but he doesn't look away. Arthur looks at Merlin for the first time in far too long, and Merlin is only a little bit pleased to see that he looks ashamed, or as ashamed as the King of Camelot can be, anyway. Merlin wants to say something, anything, because the tension is awful and the silence is even worse; things have been too silent lately and an end to that would be most welcome. It seems that, at last, Merlin won't have to wait any longer. 

Arthur smiles, says "There's something I should tell you." and Merlin's world is flipped upside down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly this chap feels kinda slow but idk. if it does pls let me know bc its got me Worried lmao
> 
> anyways, next chap is gonna be merlin and arthur finally talking things out so stay tuned!!
> 
> as always, feedback is appreciated!! and u can find me on twitter @jonsnowjpg


	3. Even After All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys. sorry about the long wait. we've recently had a family death and i haven't taken it very well, so obviously updating fic has been the last thing on my mind. STILL! i did the best i could; it's short, possibly filled with mistakes, but it's better than nothing. as always, comments and critic are welcome. i hope u enjoy it! :^)

_“There’s something I should tell you.”_

Merlin’s heart doesn’t stop when he hears the words, but it’s a near thing. Perhaps it was unfair, but he had never imagined the inevitable conversation between them to begin with Arthur smiling at him. After? Maybe, with some convincing and persuading on Merlin’s part. But before they’ve spoken? What could Arthur possibly have to smile about?

The candle flames continued to flutter on, oblivious. Merlin found one to focus on, just to the left of Arthur’s face, on a holder next to the door. Arthur figured it out almost immediately, moving slightly to block the candle from Merlin’s view.

“If we’re going to talk,” Arthur said, inching closer by a footstep before deciding against it, “we’re going to look at each other. I think we both deserve that much.” He sounded...calm, which was only marginally unnerving.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin blurted the words out hurriedly because even now, after everything, he couldn’t bear to hurt Arthur, or to have Arthur believe he meant it when he did. His words kept escaping him, like a flood after a rainstorm, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You have to know why I didn’t. At first it was easy, just one small secret that no one need ever know, but then I found out that...well, it’s just important, Arthur, it’s so important, what I have. We both know that telling anyone who didn’t already know would have been a death sentence. Before, when Uther was-”

Arthur cut him off, a hand waving his words away, “My father is no longer here; whatever he would have had to say on the matter is irrelevant, Merlin. Besides, he never knew you like I do.”

“Oh.” In all honesty, Merlin is quite shocked at that; he knew that Arthur held much the same views on magic as Uther had, but then he thinks that maybe he was unfair to assume that, too. “So, I’m not about to get burned alive? Or beheaded, for that matter?”

Arthur looks as though he wants to laugh but can’t quite understand why, “God, no. Apparently, I’d be a dead man without you, though I find that hard to believe.”

Merlin feels like this might not actually be happening; everything looks too real and sharp and he’s acutely aware of every little sound in the room. His and Arthur’s conjoined breathing, the beat of his heart in his chest, a fly somewhere to his right that won’t stop buzzing, and there’s a slight wind picking up outside that knocks cautiously against the windows every now and again. Beneath his skin, there are sparks of relief flooding his veins, chasing away the worried ache that had made a home in his stomach. He knew how odd he must have looked, stood as still as stone and just staring in mild shock bordering on astonishment at Arthur, mouth hanging open of its own accord. He couldn’t seem to make himself move.

“I don’t understand it,” Arthur was quiet, and in that moment he almost appeared small; there was no armour strapped to his body and no sword at his hip, just a loose red tunic and horribly faded breeches and Merlin was sure he had discovered a hole on the sole of those very boots only days ago. Arthur was, dare Merlin say it, vulnerable. “And perhaps I never will, not completely. You lied to me, for years you have kept this from me, and from everyone. No matter your intent, it was a betrayal of trust, and one I cannot forgive so lightly. Had things been different, I might have wrongly assumed there was some plot against me, but I...I know you, Merlin, I know where your true loyalties lie.”

Merlin couldn’t tell Arthur the whole truth; fate was a fickle thing and giving too much away tended to sway it sideways, but he could at least reassure him in the goodness of his mission, of his magic. “I use it for you, Arthur. Only ever for you.”

“Why?”

“To protect you, to keep you safe and alive. Because it’s important.”

There was a frustrated sigh from Arthur, “Honestly, Merlin, what could be so important that you can’t tell me?”

“The kingdom.” Merlin hoped his answer would be enough, hoped his tone was as final as he wanted it to be. “As long as you live, and as long as I’m here to ensure that, all of Albion is safe.”

Arthur thought about it for a moment, studying Merlin with an intensity that made his skin itch uncomfortably, then nodded his head. It was enough, at least for now. The king brushed passed him, heading for the window and opening it as far as it would go, allowing the wind and the night chill inside the room. The candles spluttered in response, but only a few blew out. There was no bustle outside, everyone finally having reached their homes. After what felt like hours of silence, Arthur finally spoke.

“I have worked tirelessly to make this place what it is, to give my people their best chance no matter where life takes them. I was blinded by hatred and personal experiences, and because of that they have suffered. I suppose even Morgana has suffered, she must have since she hates me so. You cannot help being a sorcerer, the same as you cannot help who you love or who your parents are. It’s cruel, sometimes, but it’s the truth. I lost my family to magic, first my mother and then my father, but I would have lost them to something else had magic not existed. It’s a kind of sword, I’ve come to realise; the blade itself is neither evil nor good, it all depends on the person who wields it. I have no doubt that there are dark sorcerers out there, but now I also know there are those who chose to wield their powers for the right reasons, with nothing but the purest of hearts. They should not be punished because of one man’s prejudice and misconception.”

It was more than Merlin could ever have thought possible in such a short amount of time, and he knew that he would have to find Gwen as quickly as he could to thank her. There was no way she hadn’t spoken to Arthur about it; she said she would, and it seems that she managed to get through to him. Merlin owes her his life, maybe quite literally. 

Arthur turned to face him, the backdrop of the night sky a stark contrast to the candle-induced golden glow of his face and hair, his expression smooth. “I am sorry,” his voice had gone soft again, coated with sympathy, “I’m sorry to have caused you whatever suffering you’ve endured.”

For all of Arthur’s faults, beneath the gloating and the jokes and the stubborn pride, he was nothing more than a healer. There was proof of that in his devotion to his being king, in how he tried to personally handle every matter or problem that passed through the court. Above all else, he wanted only for his people to live in peace. Merlin was ecstatic that Arthur was finally realising that sorcerers were among his people as well.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Merlin managed to croak out the words despite the lump that had formed in his throat.

Arthur smiled, a genuine smile that Merlin hadn’t seen in weeks, “Time heals all wounds. Eventually.”

Merlin returned the smile, bowed his head, and turned to leave. Words were failing him, and his chores were finished for the day, but he knew Arthur would understand. He had his hand on the door handle when Arthur called out, “Oh, and if I hear the words _fireballs_ and _Gwaine_ in the same sentence any time soon, be aware that I’ll hold you responsible. Banishment is a tedious business.”

The world felt right again.


End file.
